


Fall

by mangomunkki



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, pof spoilers, yeeting thieves off high cliffs is great fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangomunkki/pseuds/mangomunkki
Summary: Sage has joked with Passio many times that one day, the thief's luck would run out, he'd tumble over a cliff and he'd not be there to catch him. He will not, however, see that happen today.
Relationships: Sage Morreale/Kärsimyspassio
Collections: Commander Firnüel





	Fall

Everything's going to shit. They were meant to meet a Pact airship, instead they get ambushed.

Not ambushed just by anyone, mind you, ambushed by Balthazar. The God of war, fire and challenge. A literal deity, come back to Tyria, and, coincidentally, his patron god. Sage swears aloud as Firn and Balthazar exchange some heated words, not really paying attention. He'd hoped to have slightly more time to come to terms with his crisis of faith, but it seems Balthazar isn't planning on letting them off quite that easy as he did back in Godfall Tower. Ah, well. He'd compartmentalise. Step one, kill god, step two, have a think. That, he could do. The cold steel of his shield feels comforting and familiar as he slides it off his back.

So, funny thing. Killing a god of war is not quite as easy as you'd think. Sage sends another wave of protection flying towards Passio, the aegis glowing purple for a moment as it settles on the sylvari. Not much more he can do to keep him safe, unfortunately, considering the thief has to stick close to Balthazar to actually deal any damage with his daggers, and Sage is kept quite busy just trying to redirect some of the god's fury off of Firn. He deflects a blast of heat and molten rock that's thrown at them. Firn is behind him and his shield, thankfully realising himself this is not the time to play hero, and judging by the hair-raising sensation Sage is getting, is weaving up a big necrotic spell, probably a golem or something.

Sage huffs a breath, fixing his grip on his shield and keeps up the offense. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to not be the only one with any protective abilities up here. Unfortunately, Zayyaan and the rest of the group can't reach them even if they tried, thanks to the wall of flame blocking off access to the top of the tower. Sage will just have to manage.

He can't be sure exactly how long they've been fighting, as the exhaustion, heat and adrenaline blur everything into one, but his shield arm is getting heavier, he knows sweat is beading on his forehead and he's starting to feel the familiar chill that indicates his magical abilities are starting to run out. From the corner of his eye, he can see Firn is flagging, too, his features covered in soot and the stern set of his jaw betraying a lot of inner struggle. No matter how hard he tries to keep the attention away from him, Balthazar seems to focus solely on the necromancer, and there is only so much his barriers and protective spells can do.

He digs deep in his magic, weaving another set of chains he launches at Balthazar, them wrapping around the god's arms and immobilising him for a moment. He knows this won't keep the bastard still for long, a few seconds at most before he breaks through, but it gives him enough time to reach for his belt, find the sigil hanging on it and crack it in half. Sweet relief, as healing magic floods over him and rejuvenates him, the golden mist rolling over the battlefield. He just has to hope Passio is in range of it, too, as the sylvari's been stealthed – thankfully – for most of the battle, only popping up every now and then to disappear back into the smoke and shadows again.

A ground-shaking wave of heat has both him and Firn flying backwards, landing in the dirt a few metres back. He didn't know Balthazar could do that, what the fuck, how many more tricks was he still keeping in his back pocket? With ice in his gut, Sage realises the heat wave caught Passio, too, the thief trying to get to his feet on the other side of the clearing. And now, _now_ , Balthazar decides to finally target someone else than Firn. No way in hell is he letting him go after _him_.

Getting to his feet, his necklace decides this is the time to slip out of his armour, dangling in front of his vision, the smooth gold almost taunting him. He can just about make out the shape of Balthazar, standing victorious with his hounds by his side, and a burst of rage takes over his thoughts. He tears the pendant off with a brisk tug, the worn leather giving way easily, and throws it. The amulet flies through the air, hitting the side of Balthazar's face, causing the god to turn and glance at him. "How about you pick on someone not laying on the ground, huh? Or are you the god of cowardice as well? Because that's not very challenging, kicking someone who's already down."

Sage isn't quite sure what he's shouting at the god, his mouth working faster than his brain, but his taunts have the desired effect. With a roll of his shoulders and an annoyed tick in his brow Sage is sure wasn't there before, Balthazar turns, facing him, and he can see Passio slip back into the cloud of smoke. Thank the Six.

He's paying for his impudence, for sure, as it feels like every bolt of fire he deflects hits harder than the previous one. Balthazar's gotten him good a couple of times, his arm smarting where a stream of fire melted straight through his armour, and he's pretty sure the liquid streaming down the side of his face isn't sweat but blood. Nevertheless, he shoulders on, because there really isn't any alternative, if he wants to get them all out of this alive.

A glint in the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he's pretty sure he sees Passio just as Balthazar does. He's climbed on top of one of the statues lining the makeshift arena, jumping off it with his twin daggers aimed at Balthazar's neck. If Sage thought his gut was full of ice earlier, he's been turned into an icicle, now. Almost as if in slow motion, he watches as the flame-covered greatsword in Balthazar's hand is whipped up, slapping Passio away like one would slap away a particularly persistent fly. Sage's sword clatters to the ground, his eyes locked on the tiny purple form arcing in the air. And then he runs.

Sorry, Firn, but he _has_ to do this. Sage lifts up his shield to protect him from the fire lining the ground, hearing and feeling the metal sizzle and warp as the flames do their best to keep him penned in. He presses on, breaks through and leaps off the cliffside without hesitation, discarding the now-useless shield.

Where is Passio?

There, just a bit below him, Sage spots him. The sylvari looks dazed, his usually so sharp eyes half-lidded and seemingly not focused on anything. A blink, and it's like Passio suddenly sees what's happening. Sage sees his eyes widen abruptly, and he's pretty sure he sees him mouth his name. If he does, he can't hear it, the wind rushing in his ears deafening in its roar.

Sage reaches out his hand, and, like a miracle, Passio reaches back. His fingers fumble for purchase, then grab on, and Sage pulls him close to himself. He curls around the tiny form of the sylvari, cradling him to his chest and dares glance past his head. The ground is rapidly rushing up to meet them. Oh shit.

This is going to hurt.

Shit, how the hell are they going to make it?

 _He_ better make it.

At a loss to what to do, Sage grips Passio even tighter, squeezing his eyes shut – maybe he is a bit of a coward, after all, but he doesn’t want to face this death head on – and prays. Despite the fact that it was his god who got them in this mess, despite the fact he'd gotten confirmation every other god had left.

He prays.

He prays, and a warmth blooms in his chest, spreading to his back.

A blinding light floods through his closed eyelids, and the speed they're plummeting down suddenly slows to a sluggish, calm pace. Sand crunches under his toes as his feet touch the ground. Sage opens his eyes, expecting to see the Mists, but instead his vision is filled with glowing, white feathers. As he stares, the feathers disappear, as the pair of wings curled around them, protecting them, dissipates and vanishes.

A breathless chuckle escapes his lips, knees buckling as soon as the wings stop supporting him, and he kneels in the ground. He relaxes his hold on Passio, eyes searching the sylvari's face for confirmation he's okay. The stuttering rise of Passio's chest provokes another laugh out of him, unsteady and wavering but paired with a flood of relief. He has no idea what just happened, how the hell they made it out alive, but they did, they're both here and Passio's still breathing.


End file.
